


The Middle of Nowhere's Fine (If That's With You)

by orphan_account



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentioned Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-28 08:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19808854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A few months ago, Baekhyun's mom announced that they would move this summer. The small town is the polar opposite of his current home and days stretch on without the company of his friends. One day he stumbles upon a duck, a creek, and a boy who can get five skips out of a stone.





	1. Do Ducks Bite?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters are third-gen (great-grandparents immigrated, grandparents born in Washington state), so there isn't any use of honorifics in this story.

A fond smile rests on the middle-aged woman's face as she hugs her son tightly.

“I want you back in this house by sundown, okay?” she says, pulling back and looking down to make eye contact.

Baekhyun's still staring at something in the distance, or nothing at all, but he nods all the same.

“What do you do if you get lost?”

“Hmm?” Baekhyun hums, eyes focusing as if just noticing his mother's presence.

“Baekhyunnie,” she warns, “If you don't remember my rules, then I can't let you go play. It's dangerous if you don't know these things.”

“No, I remember!” Baekhyun rushes, “Back home by sundown. If I get lost, then I press this button and tell you.”

He reaches for the blue Relay device clipped to his backpack and points a small finger to the button that would let him talk to his mom.

“And I have water and snacks, so can I go, Mom?” Baekhyun pleads, clapping his hands together and pouting in the way that gets his mom to agree to almost anything.

His mom holds his eyes for another moment, lips pursuing, then relaxing to sigh, “Okay, honey, but don't go too far. We're still new to this town.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Baekhyun exclaims, hopping up to peck his mom's cheek. 

With that he runs out the door and down the dirt road that leads to the neighborhood park. Her heart aches, but she closes the door and shuffles back into the house to continue unpacking - anything to busy her mind.

***

A pan crashes against the wall and clatters to the floor.

“Goddamnit, woman! Don’t be throwin’ shit - you gunnin’ to get the cops called on us ag’in?” shouts his uncle.

“You’re lucky I missed!” retorts the red-haired woman, “I was aimin’ for your wretched head!”

The rest of the argument becomes muffled, but remnants of curse words slip under Jongdae’s closed bedroom door, prickly on his skin. His heart hammers in his chest and his mind hopscotches through the same two thoughts - _Run away_ and _Before it’s too late_. His fingers touch a purple splotch on his left shoulder, careful not to poke.

Another clang rings just beyond his door and startles him to action. He manages to haphazardly stuff some items in his green frog backpack, hoping that he’s putting something useful inside. The frog face gives him the same faded smile when he zips it.

There’s a rough **thump** on his door, whether it’s intentional or the result of someone being tossed against it is uncertain, but he tumbles out of his bedroom window all the same, landing in the sparse grass. The sun is lower in the sky, but there’s enough daylight for him to see the dirt road that stretches to the park.

He runs until he reaches the set of fir trees that separate the park from the creek, ignoring the police car that drives toward his home.

***

The park is small: two swings and a metal slide that’s rusted over time stand pitifully near what might be a decent picnic table if cleaned. Baekhyun scowls, cursing that he and his mom ever moved to this middle-of-nowhere town.

He knows it’s not his mom’s fault that they’re out there - she explained it enough times that it started to make sense.

_“Baekhyunnie, I know you don’t want to move, honey, but we have to,” his mom said, folding some clothes to go in a suitcase, “Mommy can’t afford this place anymore.”_

_“Even if I broke Mr. Pig?” Baekhyun asked, clutching the pink piggy bank that held about $62._

_His mom chuckled, but it sounded sad at the end, not like her usual laughs. She set the shirt she had been folding back on top of the pile and looked to the ceiling for awhile before telling him, “Even if you broke Mr. Pig.”_

Since that conversation, he does his best not to complain - if Mr. Pig couldn’t help, then the situation must be dire - although right now, he’s in the middle of a supposed park, and there isn’t so much as a squirrel to keep him company.

**Quack!**

Baekhyun whirls around, eyes scanning for a duck. _There is a duck, right? He didn’t imagine that?_ Yixing always told him that when people move to towns like this they start to lose their minds and Yixing _is_ a sixth grader…

**Quack!**

This time he’s quick enough to see bright orange-red tail feathers just before it waddles into the nearby trees. He sprints into the trees, hoping that he hasn’t lost it. If he’s remembering last year’s science unit correctly, he’ll find water if he follows the duck. 

The trees are more densely packed than he thought and after a moment, he can’t see which way the park is or where the duck waddled off to. He sighs and settles against a tree, taking off his backpack to get a drink of water. A flying bug makes the endeavor more difficult and he regrets not letting his mom spray him with insect repellant.

“Okay, if I were a duck, which way would I go?” he wonders, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Leaves crunch on the ground to his right, spurring him to reseal the water bottle and tuck it back in his backpack. He clambers to zip the backpack up and follow the sound.

***

Jongdae skids to a halt, panting from the exertion of running for so long. _Hopefully there’s a water bottle in here_ , he thinks while rummaging through the backpack. He sighs as he realizes that he grabbed a flashlight, a random comic book, and a half-eaten sandwich, but no water bottle.

“Shit,” he breathes out, plopping down on the grassy bank of the creek.

An old tree that’s warped and bent stretches over him to provide some shade. He watches the soft ripples in the creek until the sight frustrates him, reminding him of the last time he drank creek water - several days of a stomach bug that only begat comments of his stupidity from his uncle.

Eventually his breathing is even again and he even feels hungry enough to polish off that half-eaten sandwich. The sweet taste of pear jam coupled with peanut butter is a rare break from the usual deli sandwiches he eats.

A dollop of the jam oozes from the side - he never could make neat sandwiches the way his cousin used to - and plops on to his backpack. _Whoops_.

Before he can scoop up the jam, a sudden **quack** startles him. The duck waddles into view, peering at him curiously. _Do ducks eat jam?_ he wonders when the duck stops looking at him to poke at his backpack.

The sound of someone running ends the duck’s investigation. Nervous quacks mix with the sound of splashing water. His backpack takes most of the spray, making it easier to dust the jam off the frog’s smile.

“Couldn’t you have grabbed him?” asks a boy, panting harshly.

“I - What?” Jongdae responds, irritated and confused, “If you weren’t running, he wouldn’t have left!”

“That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have stopped him,” asserts the boy, taking a seat next to him and pulling off his own backpack.

“Why would I catch a duck!” he exclaims. _What’s wrong with this kid?_

“Eh, it doesn’t matter anyways,” the boy continues, pausing to take a drink of water, “I was just looking for where it would go.”

Jongdae glances at the water bottle and remembers the thirst that he subdued, but hadn’t satisfied. He feels envy for a moment, wishing he hadn’t left his house so quickly. _Maybe keeping his backpack packed would help._

“Do you want some?” the boy offers, holding the bottle out.

Jongdae hesitates, wondering if it’s wise to share a water bottle with a strange boy. Thirst makes the decision for him and he takes the bottle with a murmured “Thanks.”

“I’m Baekhyun by the way. Byun Baekhyun. My mom and I just moved here a few months ago,” Baekhyun says, an easy smile on his face.

“I’m Kim Jongdae,” he says, resealing and handing the bottle back, “Why did you want to know where the duck would go?”

“I was in the park, but the duck seemed more interesting,” Baekhyun explains, picking up a stone, “After all, if there’s a duck, there has to be water, right?”

“But you wanted me to catch the duck,” Jongdae points out.

Baekhyun shrugs and continues to study the stone in his hands for a moment, then holds it out for Jongdae to take. The stone is smooth and mostly flat, but too circular for skipping.

“I guess I wanted a feather from it?” Baekhyun says after awhile.

He tries to imagine holding a duck long enough to pluck a feather from it, but his mind only cooks up a chorus of quacking and frantic flapping. He’s sure that even if both of them planned for such an endeavor, one, if not both of them, would have wound up in the dirt or in the water.

“Do ducks bite?” Jongdae half wonders, half asks.

“What?” Baekhyun asks, looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“I mean, if I were a duck, I wouldn’t let someone take one of my feathers without a fight,” Jongdae explains.

“Of course ducks bite, Jongdae,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes and reaching for the stone, “But we shouldn’t let duck bites stop us from feather hunting.”

“You’re weird,” Jongdae says, handing back the stone.

Baekhyun hums, potentially in agreement since this can’t be the first time he’s been called weird. He tosses the rock toward the creek and it sinks immediately.

Jongdae snickers at the sight, only somewhat being quiet when he notices Baekhyun’s furrowed eyebrows.

“Whatever,” Baekhyun mumbles, sighing.

Jongdae picks up another stone, this one more triangular in shape, and hands it over to Baekhyun.

“Hold it like this,” he says, adjusting Baekhyun’s grip so that his thumb is on top of the stone and his index finger curls around the side, “Stand up and throw it really quick.”

Baekhyun looks at him for a moment, seeming nervous about if he’s being set up for a trick, but relaxes when Jongdae gives him a smile of encouragement.

This stone manages two skips before sinking and Baekhyun grins at the sight, holding his hand up in front of Jongdae. Two skips is something he would have been excited about a few years ago, but he high-fives Baekhyun on his success.

“If you get this excited about two skips, you’d be all over the place for five skips,” Jongdae remarks.

“Five skips?” Baekhyun asks, eyes wide with awe and disbelief, “Could you teach me?”

Jongdae studies him for a moment, then gets to his feet and extends his hand for a handshake. Baekhyun looks at his hand, lost in thought for a moment. His hand hangs awkwardly in the air as he waits for a response and he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

“What?” Jongdae asks, feeling uncertain.

“Shouldn’t we do the thing where we spit on our palms, then shake?” Baekhyun asks, voice dead-serious.

“That’s disgusting.”

“But it’s an extra-serious handshake if we spit on it!”

“What are you? Six?”

Baekhyun sticks his tongue out in response, but shakes his hand, no spit involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and thoughts are always welcome. :3 Also, I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Elle_Ina_) now!
> 
>  **Story Notes**  
>  The town is based on Winthrop, Washington, which has a population of around 400 people.


	2. S'okay, Baby

“You’re leaving?” Jongdae asks, trying to keep his disappointment out of his voice.

Baekhyun nods, worrying his bottom lip, “I was supposed to be back home by sundown.”

Thoughts of when his mom would set similar curfews nip at his mind and he swallows them down.

“Do you know how to get back?”

“Not really…” Baekhyun admits sheepishly, “I didn’t pay much attention when I chased after the duck.”

“C’mon,” Jongdae says, putting on his backpack, “I’ll walk you.”

Baekhyun gives a thankful smile and as they walk, Jongdae is careful to point out trees that he’s marked with a rough circle, carved into the bark.

“How long have you been coming out here?” Baekhyun asks, tracing his fingers over one of the trees that seems to have been carved multiple times.

“A couple of years.” 

There are only a few trees left until they reach the park and he can’t bring himself to invest much else in conversation. The thought of going back to his bent tree by the creek alone doesn’t hold much appeal. He wonders if Baekhyun feels similar, noticing that his energy is lower than before.

The park appears and it’s an unwelcome sight.

“You can get home from here, right?” Jongdae asks, tone cool and face expressionless.

“Yeah, thanks,” Baekhyun says, hesitantly as if he wants to say more.

Whatever it is stays locked up in Baekhyun’s mind and he turns to leave. Jongdae steels himself for the idea of not seeing Baekhyun again. People he likes have a habit of leaving.

It doesn’t stop the sting of hearing Baekhyun’s footsteps growing fainter.

“Jongdae?” he hears Baekhyun call out.

“What?” he returns.

Baekhyun shifts from one foot to another before asking, “Wanna meet tomorrow at noon?”

“Yeah!” he says, giving two thumbs-up.

***

The sky is streaked orange, pink, and dark blue when Baekhyun makes it back home. Hopefully “by sundown” can accommodate “at sundown”. 

He had lost track of time when Jongdae started a heated discussion over which comic book universe was superior. Their fledgling friendship nearly ended when Jongdae asserted Batman was just a rich boy who paled in comparison to the genius of Iron Man.

_Are they friends?_ The label has a nice ring to it.

He shakes his head to focus on the task of retrieving his house key and unlocking the door. The light in the kitchen is on, making it easier for him to toe off his tennis shoes. The smell of something cooking wafts over, beckoning him into the kitchen.

“Hey, mom,” he greets, plopping down in one of the dining chairs.

“Baekhyunnie, you’re home,” his mom says, sounding relieved, “Here, try this.”

A wooden spoon of what looks like chili is pushed under his nose and he obediently opens his mouth to taste. The spoonful pulls a delighted hum from him and he realizes how hungry he is, a pang poking his stomach.

“Good?” his mom asks, tossing the spoon in the sink.

He nods quickly, asking, “Can I have a bowl now?”

“Set the table first, then we can eat.”

He hops up to retrieve the placemats from a drawer, followed by bowls and silverware. He’s getting better at remembering where things are and only mistakenly opens two incorrect cabinets.

“So what kept you out past sundown, honey?” his mom asks, eyes trained on the task of spooning chili into their bowls.

Baekhyun flinches at the words. He had half-hoped that his late arrival had gone unnoticed.

“I’m sorry, mom,” he says earnestly, mouth pulled down in distress, “I didn’t mean to. I just -”

“Mhmm,” she hums, setting the pot of chili back on the stove.

“I went to the park, but there was a duck and then the duck ran off. Well the duck waddled because ducks don’t run, but then,” he pauses, taking a breath to collect himself, “There was this kid and I wound up hanging out with him too long.”

There’s a cricket outside the window that accompanies the soft buzz of the kitchen light. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt, looking at the floor. He’s mentally pleading that he’s not going to get grounded. He didn’t _mean_ to stay out late.

His mom sighs and takes hold of his hands, “Baekhyun, calm down.”

He nods and breathes out slow.

“I’m not mad, but, honey, you had me worried. I didn’t know where you were and we agreed by sundown. Not _at_ sundown. Someone could have scooped you up and I wouldn’t have anyway of knowing.”

He’s about to say that he wasn’t _that_ late, but thinks better of it.

“I know you weren’t _that_ late,” she says and he blinks up for a moment, wondering if she can read his mind, “but I can’t be flexible on this rule. I need you to keep track of time, Baekhyunnie. You’re ten now.”

“Okay,” he says softly. He doesn’t fully understand his mom’s concern, but he feels the intensity of her words.

“Three days,” his mom says, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

He bites his bottom lip and nods, trying not to fret over the fact that he promised Jongdae that they would meet tomorrow.

***

His bedroom window is closed when he gets home. His fingers feel wet and sticky from the fresh paint that he unwittingly touched. _Painted shut?_

With a sigh, he goes around to the front door, ringing the doorbell. His stomach twists and knots when he hears footsteps. Something knocks over near the door followed by what sounds like a muffled curse.

“Come on, baby, get inside,” his aunt says, clutching her robe, “S’not safe out.”

He nods, coming in. His aunt pushes the door closed and slides the chain in place.

“Is something on the stove?” he asks, sniffing the air curiously.

“Just some spaghetti,” she says, moving toward the kitchen, “I need to check on it ‘fore it burns.”

He’s about to take off his shoes when he remembers the paint on his hand - “Aunt Jen, I got paint on my hand…” he says, looking dumbly at the light blue covering his finger tips.

Aunt Jen reappears with a wet paper towel, taking his hand and dabbing the paint off of it, “Where did this come from?” she murmurs.

“My window,” he says, not sure if she wanted an answer.

She pauses for a moment as if remembering, then takes a couple more wipes until his hand is clean again. He wants to know _why_ there’s paint on his window, but decides to wait until they’re sitting down for dinner.

“Make sure you wash up before coming to the table,” she says, squeezing his hand, then letting go to return to the kitchen.

His stomach growling encourages him to be quick about putting away his shoes and washing his hands. The door to his aunt and uncle’s bedroom is open, which is odd, but maybe that’s connected to his bedroom window being painted.

His aunt is nursing a glass of red wine and there’s only one bowl of spaghetti on the table. She gestures for him to sit down and he obliges.

“You’re not eating?” he asks, gingerly taking the fork and wrapping some noodles around it.

“My nerves are too bad for it, baby,” she says, eyebrows knitting together.

He nods and takes a bite, then comments, “It’s good.”

“Good, good,” she responds distantly, swirling the wine in her glass.

They sit in silence, save for the sounds of soft chewing and an occasional sip. When he finishes, he gets up to rinse his bowl, but his aunt stops him, waking from whatever trance she had been in.

“I’ve got it,” she murmurs, taking the bowl from him and heading to the sink.

Water sloshes in the sink and silverware clatters in a muted way. He knows something is off, but he’s not sure what.

“He’s gone, baby,” Aunt Jen says, drying the freshly washed bowl, “Police came by and, well, he’s gone now. He ain’t comin’ back.”

His skin prickles and his mind slows down, trying to make sense of the words, “What?” he whispers.

“He’s gone,” she repeats, just as soft.

_What does gone mean? Gone like… Forever? How can a person be gone forever?_

  


_Is he dead?_

Aunt Jen walks over and kneels next to him, taking his hands in hers. He feels a chill run through him and Aunt Jen rubs his hands like she felt it too.

“I guess Tina next door heard and called the cops, but when they came…” she trails off, breathing to try to find the words, “Well they saw the bruises on my neck.”

He slips a hand out of her grasp, cautiously pulling at the collar of her robe to see the dark indigo marks that dot and span her neck. He pulls his fingers back, letting the collar go.

Aunt Jen takes his hand again and kisses the palm of it, “S’okay, baby, don’t cry.”

He sniffles and nods, but does nothing for the tears that streak his cheeks.

“They’ve got him locked away, baby,” she murmurs, pulling him close and rocking him, “It’s just us now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Elle_Ina_) (If you'd like to see the mess of my mind when I'm not writing...)
> 
>  **Story Notes**  
>  The park in the story actually sits between Baekhyun's neighborhood and Jongdae's neighborhood.


	3. Don't Beat Yourself Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: A panic attack is described in this chapter.**

****His knuckles hover over the bedroom door and his eyebrows scrunch as he deliberates.

_“Things'll be different now, baby,” his Aunt Jen told him._

_He wondered if different meant good, but the look of hope in his aunt's eyes was something he trusted._

He sighs, pulling his blanket tighter and knocks on his aunt's door. 

_It's okay. It's okay. He's gone. He's gone._

The thoughts are so persistent that he isn't sure if they're a reminder or a prayer.

The door creaks open and his aunt looks into the hallway bleary-eyed, then giving him permission to come in with a yawned yet warm “Baby”. Somehow the pet name always makes him feel safe, sure that he’s loved and precious.

He tiptoes in, pressing himself to his aunt and focusing on evening his breathing again. She smells like her lavender bath soap and the scent calms him.

“Nightmare?” she asks, wrapping her arms around him.

He nods, not elaborating on what the nightmare was about - he’s told her enough times that a couple of months ago, she once told him how she has a similar one except it didn’t end when she woke up.

“C’mon,” she says, rubbing his back before breaking the embrace.

She crawls back under the worn gingham comforter and it takes a moment for his feet to work.

_He’s gone_ , he thinks as he sets his blanket down in the wooden rocking chair. The thought rings again when he gingerly crawls under the comforter. The last time he came to sleep in his aunt’s bed was four years ago, a few days after his mom’s funeral.

“Rest your mind, baby,” Aunt Jen whispers, drawing him close again, “We’re alright.”

He wakes up in a panic, unable to process where his aunt is. _Hadn’t he come here last night? Where is she?_

“Aunt Jen?” he calls out, nerves eating at logic.

There’s no response and his mind starts creating scenarios that he knows doesn’t make sense. He knows that she’s probably in some other part of the house, but he can’t make himself understand that.

_He’s back - he wasn’t gone. It was a mistake. He has to get out of this room. Why is he here? He’ll get in trouble. Leave, leave, leave._

He gets out of the bed, then does his best to fix the comforter, but his fingers aren’t working well enough. He’s shaking and he hates that he’s shaking, hates that he _knows_ he isn’t thinking straight, hates that he can’t help but get lost in the irrational thoughts anyway.

“Jongdae?” Aunt Jen calls, her voice growing closer.

She rushes into the room and finds him on the floor next to the bed, breathing too shallow.

“Shhh,” she coos, taking his hands and rubbing her thumbs in rhythmic circles, “Listen to my breaths, baby.”

He hiccups on a sob and makes a sound of agreement. Eventually his breathing matches hers and the tension leaves him. Aunt Jen stands up, signaling he should follow.

When he does, she kisses both his cheeks and tells him he needs to go brush his teeth, then they can talk.

There’s microwave waffles heated up for him on the table and a bottle of syrup. Aunt Jen has her own plate, already eating.

“How are you feeling, baby?” she asks as he has a seat.

“I’m fine. I just -” he says with a sigh, reaching for the syrup.

Feelings of shame and embarrassment gnaw at him. _Isn’t he ten now? Shouldn’t he be growing out of this?_

He pours the syrup over his waffles, taking a moment to think. He _has_ to talk it out - it’s a promise that he made to Aunt Jen years ago.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly this morning. I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up,” he says, poking at his waffles and tasting the syrup.

“Jongdae,” she says, voice sad and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t want to be Jongdae right now, just baby.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry, Aunt Jen,” he apologizes, wanting the sadness out of her voice.

“No, don’t apologize,” she tells him, setting her fork down, “It’s going to take time to adjust… To let our minds wrap ‘round the fact that he’s gone. We’ve gotta adjust together, help each other.”

He tries to think about what help Aunt Jen would need. He’s never seen her not fight for herself, for both of them.

Still, he nods because they do need each other.

“Don’t beat yourself up about bein’ afraid, baby,” she continues, “Even grownups get afraid.”

A small voice tells him that he still overreacted, that he needs to mature, but he pushes it away and clings to Aunt Jen’s words. 

His appetite wakes up and he starts eating his breakfast. Aunt Jen smiles, resuming her meal too.

When they’re clearing the table, he remembers the paint on his window from yesterday.

“Aunt Jen, why is my window painted?” he asks, grabbing a towel to wipe the table with.

“I -” she starts and her forehead wrinkles, “I was spooked and wanted a way to… Secure the house.”

“From what?” he asks, head cocked to the side.

“From people,” she says, drying her hands of dishwater, “People that might try to hurt us, baby.”

Aunt Jen doesn’t say anymore, leaning against the counter and looking at the ceiling. He returns the towel to the sink, then stands next to her, looking at the worry coloring her face.

She sighs and turns her attention to him, grabbing his hand, “Baby, I need you to stay in today.”

He wants to ask why, but the haunted look on her face chills him.

“Okay,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and she mouths “Thank you.” He understands the words as much as the request, but he’s glad that she seems less tense. Maybe he can help Aunt Jen too.

His stomach clenches and it takes him a moment to notice that it’s almost noon. _Baekhyun._

***

“Baekhyun,” his mom calls again, “I’m coming in.”

He puts down his book and draws his knees up close, toes digging into his starry bedding.

His mom looks irritated, but mostly concerned. It wasn’t often that he got grounded - despite Yixing’s opinion on his behavior.

“Honey,” she says, sitting at the foot of his bed, “You can’t stay in your room all day. You have to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles at the same time his stomach growls.

“Not hungry?” she says, fixing him with a look, “You’ve been grounded before, Baekhyun. You know why you’re being grounded.”

“I know,” he says, gaze moving to study the collection of stars printed before him.

“What’s going on then?”

“I promised my friend we would meet today,” he states, cheeks coloring slightly at saying the word aloud. _They are friends though_ , he decides.

“You’ll see him soon enough, honey,” she says, voice gentle, “It doesn’t feel good to break a promise, but there has to be consequences for our actions.”

He scowls at the words, wishing he could make his mom understand the feeling he had yesterday. That gnawing feeling that if he didn’t make plans with Jongdae, didn’t assure him, that it would all fall apart. He can’t even call to let Jongdae know - he forgot to ask for anything like a phone number. He’s not even sure where Jongdae lives.

His mom sighs, abandoning the goal of getting him to leave his room. She leans over and kisses his forehead, then gets up to leave.

“I don’t want you upset with me, Baekhyunnie,” she says, “but I need you to learn this.”

He nods, face relaxing. A wave of guilt runs through him and he worries his bottom lip out of habit.

“Mom?” he asks, catching her just before she closes the door, “What if my friend stops talking to me because I didn’t meet him?”

She pauses before answering, “People know when you’re telling the truth, so make sure you apologize and tell him what happened. He’ll understand, honey.”

“Thanks,” he says, nodding to her and to himself. _It’ll be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! I'm sorry that this chapter doesn't have much from Baekhyun's point of view this time. :(
> 
>  **Story Notes**  
>  Jongdae's mom passed away when he was six, which is when he moved in with his Aunt Jen (his mom's younger sister.) His uncle appeared a few months after that.
> 
> Also, this other tidbit is probably apparent by now, but Jongdae & Baekhyun are kids for the start of this story and will later get older as the story progresses. For now, please enjoy kid!BaekChen. :3


	4. What Is It, Honey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *clown emoji* I'm a little late this time, sorry, y'all. I'll just let you know now - this chapter is sugar-rotting fluff.

“Byun Baekhyun!” his mom shouts, “You’ve got fifteen seconds to come here. Fifteen…”

He tugs on his socks, then fumbles to make his bed look acceptable. He manages to smooth the comforter and the edges of the sheets are tucked now.

“Ten…”

_ Cap, where’s his baseball cap? _ His eyes dart around the room until he sees the pink cap peeking out from beneath his bedskirt.  _ How did it get there? _

“Seven...”

He grabs it, dusting it off. He fits the cap over his head, band in the front, even though his mom hates when he wears it that way.

Thankfully his backpack is at the front door, so he turns off the light in his room and hustles to the front.

“Three…” his mom calls, voice faltering when she sees him. She takes a look at his baseball cap and sighs, handing his backpack to him with a “Let’s go, honey.”

  
  
  


The clinic waiting room is a dull, nondescript beige room with dated, stained furniture. The nurse seems exhausted despite the fact that aside from him and his mom, there’s only an old man waiting to be seen.

The old man coughs wetly into his balled up fist, then goes back to reading his newspaper.

Baekhyun cringes at the sound, scooting closer to his mom. She’s busy reading something on her phone. He tries to peer into her hand to figure out what, but all he sees is lines and lines of text before she suddenly shifts her hold to start typing.

“Hold on, honey,” she murmurs, eyes glued to the screen.

He hums in boredom, legs restless. After some thinking, he realizes that his book is probably under the living room couch, then claps a hand to his forehead for his forgetfulness.

The old man peers over his newspaper at him and clears his throat. The man’s eyes look cloudy and he wonders how old the man is. He feels the glare intensify and remembers that staring isn’t polite.

“Baekhyun?” the nurse calls, clipboard in hand, “We’re ready for you.”

His mom tucks her phone back in her purse, her professional smile on when she looks at the nurse. When they move to follow the nurse, he makes a mental note to ask why old people have cloudy eyes sometimes and if  _ he’s _ going to get cloudy eyes when he gets older.

***

“Baby, you ready?” Aunt Jen calls from the front of the house.

He puts his bowl and spoon in the dishwater, then gives the table a quick wipedown. He hears the sound of keys jingling and tosses the towel in the sink.  _ His backpack, where’s his backpack? _

The frog gives him a weary smile when his eyes finally land on it and this time he remembers to grab a water bottle from the fridge to put in it.

“We’re just going to the grocery store, baby,” Aunt Jen says, ruffling his hair and an easy smile on her face.

“I’m just excited,” he says earnestly, returning her smile.

The past couple of days had been different, a series of small realizations that it’s okay to do certain things now. He could tell that Aunt Jen isn’t as tense as she used to be, her smiles come easier. She  _ hums _ when she does things.

Yesterday she told him that she wants to learn how to cook, insisting that she can’t just let spaghetti be the best thing he eats. It didn’t bother him one way or another, but it seemed important to her. The invitation to go with her to the grocery store is novel - until a few days ago, Aunt Jen always went with his uncle.

***

“Baekhyun, don’t pick at it,” his mom says, looking at him in the rear view mirror.

He quickly retracts his hand from the smiley face band-aid, grinning around his lollipop.

“We can take off the band-aid this evening, but if you mess with it now, it won’t heal right,” she tells him, pulling into the parking lot.

He nods and she holds his gaze for another moment, trying to communicate the importance of her words. He squirms in his seat, averting his eyes to the car’s floor.

“We just need a few things, honey,” she says, unclicking her seatbelt, “then… I’ll consider your grounding over.”

He looks up again, eyes bright, asking “Really?”

“Yes, really. It’s the last day anyway, but you may as well enjoy the afternoon.”

He scrambles out of his seat and clambers to give an appreciative hug, his thank you’s muffled into her dress. He can feel her laugh when it rings out, followed by a kiss pressed to the top of his head.

“Baekhyunnie,” she sings, hands resting on his shoulders, “Let me go, honey, we can’t move like this.”

He hugs tighter, ignoring the request and giggling at the pokes that he feels on his back. After a moment, the pokes start to tickle and he wiggles away.

He gets his backpack out of the backseat and closes the car door. The sun is starting to make him sweat and he grimaces, now eager to get inside.

  
  


Unlike the rest of town, the grocery store is big and well-cared for. Sounds of items being scanned, the radio, and shopping cart wheels mix together. He wonders if this is where the people that live here have been hiding.

“Baekhyun, stay close to me,” his mom reminds him, grabbing a cart from the side, “Do you have our list?”

He rummages through his backpack for the thin notebook that’s usually on their refrigerator, humming in agreement when he finds it. His mom hands him a pen, telling him she wants him to point out the aisles they should go to and to cross off the things they get.

It’s a responsibility he gained a few years ago and it made going to the grocery store feel like a scavenger hunt instead of a chore.

“Okay, where to first, Captain Hyunnie?” his mom asks, looking at him with a glint in her eyes.

He studies the list for a moment, then points to the produce aisle and says in his best captain voice, “We’ll need some fruit before navigating these waters.”

“Aye, aye,” his mom says, taking them in that direction and ignoring the curious looks they get from a passing old lady.

They’re picking out apples when he spots a familiar worn frog backpack near the potatoes.

“Jongdae?” he calls out before thinking.

The boy turns around, eyes searching for who called him. He contemplates running over, but thinks better of it. He taps his mom’s arm, pulling her attention from tying the bag of apples.

“What is it, honey?” she asks, trying to figure out what caught his attention.

“It’s my friend. I know I’m still grounded right now, but could we go over there? I don’t know if I’ll see him again and if I don’t talk to him now, then I might never see him again. Please, please, please,” he says in a rush, hoping his babble of words made enough sense to spur them to action.

Before they can move, Jongdae and a red-haired woman that Baekhyun figures is his mom appear next to them. He feels his stomach flip with nervousness and his skin feels clammy.

“I’m sorry!” he blurts out, quickly covering his traitorous mouth.

“I - wait, what?” Jongdae says, eyebrows furrowing and head cocked to the side, “I should be saying sorry.”

_ Why would Jongdae be apologizing? _

“No, it’s my fault,” he counters, “I got grounded and couldn’t meet.”

Jongdae starts smiling and he feels frustrated, unable to piece together anything that’s happening. He hears his mom talking to Jongdae’s mom about something, probably trying to figure out what’s happening right now.

“Ah,” Jongdae says, sensing his frustration, “I couldn’t meet either. I was nervous that you showed up and saw I wasn’t there.”

“ _ I _ was nervous that you showed up and saw I wasn’t there,” Baekhyun says, pointing his thumb at himself, “I… Can we hang out today?”

Jongdae looks at his mom, “Aunt Jen, this is Baekhyun. He’s the friend I was telling you about yesterday.”

_ Friend? _ he thinks, cheeks turning pink with pride. He shakes off the feeling and remembers his manners, giving a polite hello and then properly introducing Jongdae to his mom.

“We’d love to have both of you over for dinner,” his mom offers, “We’re new to town and would enjoy the company.”

Jongdae’s  mom aunt seems to hesitate, but smiles and accepts the invitation. He tunes out of the conversation that shifts to setting a time and other adult talk like “Any allergies?” and “We’ll bring a house-warming gift.” How a gift could warm a house is beyond him, especially when those “gifts” are only things like plants or towels.

“Why did you get grounded?” Jongdae asks, drawing his attention back to him.

“I got home after I was supposed to,” he says sheepishly, looking at his toes for a moment, “I felt sad because I didn’t know if I’d see you again.”

Jongdae’s eyes go wide and his cheeks pink, then he lightly shoves his shoulder and mumbles, “Don’t be dumb. This town is small, so of course we would’ve seen each other again.”

“I guess you’re right, but who knows how long it would’ve been,” he says earnestly.

“Baekhyunnie, we have to go,” his mom cuts in, tapping him on the shoulder.

The “Already?” is on his lips, but he sighs and nods instead. He waves at Jongdae and his aunt, murmuring “See you later.”

“Jen, we’ll see you and Jongdae at 6,” his mom says with a smile, then turning to Baekhyun again, “Lead the way, Captain.”

He thinks he hears Jongdae snickering, but answers with an “Argh!” and points to the next aisle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this too fluffy? Are we alright? Do we need angst? & who has the urge to coo at kid!BaekChen?
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Elle_Ina_)  
> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/minniemoments)


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